Experiments in Flashing Forward
by ElisaCollette
Summary: Ten years after the close of The Greatest Gift, Sara and Grissoom's family has multiplied. This story revolves around their world at a time when their eldest daughter Hannah is coming of age and struggling with her own violent beginnings
1. Trouble

I'll be the first to admit – this is a strange beginning. The prologue gives you a picture of the current Grissom family from a third person point of view. The story, which begins three weeks later, is told from Hannah's point of view. If you've read _The Greatest Gift_, you know that Hannah is actually Grissom's niece, who has been adopted as a daughter by both Sara and Gil. You do not need to read _The Greatest Gift_ first – but you should read it, it's a good story! I hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think – and if it should be continued.

Gilbert and Sara Grissom

Hannah – 14, 9th Grade

Gillian – 9, 5th Grade

Ira – 8, 4th Grade

Moira – 7, 2nd Grade

Matthew – 7, 2nd Grade

Zoe – 4

Brennon – 3

* * *

"Mom, we're going to be late," Hannah said with an exaggerated groan as her mother snapped yet another picture. She stood in front of the door, attempting to hurry her mother along by moving closer to their eventual destination.

"It's not too much to ask for a picture of my daughter on her first day of high school," Sara answered with a smile before checking her watch. "Besides, we have time."

"I don't want to be late on my first day."

"When has your mother ever been late for anything?" Grissom posed the question to his eldest daughter as he appeared in the hallway with two more in tow. Moira Grissom was ready for her first day of second grade from the top of her chestnut pigtails to the toes of her navy Mary Jane shoes. Her nine-year-old sister was a different story. Gillian had been impossible to wake up and even harder to coax into the navy jumper required by their exclusive private school. She was still glaring slightly as she stared down at her shoes, scuffed from the day before when she'd forgotten to change into tennis shoes before engaging in a fairly rough game of soccer with her brother.

"Dad, can we just go?"

"Sweetie, it's your first day of high school. It's a big day for us. We're almost ready," he added, heading back toward the bedrooms.

"Why can't I just take the bus like everyone else?"

"You know why, we're not talking about it again," Sara answered firmly. She tried to retain her smile as she turned and took a picture of the other two girls, who were still standing where their father had left them. "Gilly-bean, what's wrong?" Gillian turned abruptly away from Sara, folding her arms and stubbornly facing the wall. Sara knelt down and gave Moira a questioning look, but the little girl shrugged.

"Gilly doesn't want to go to school," Moira said softly, her sensitive nature emanating from the glistening tears in her blue eyes. Sara worried about her starting second grade without her twin brother, but Grissom was convinced that she needed to learn to be more independent, so she and Matthew had been placed in two separate classrooms. Moira knew of the unusual arrangement, but Sara was concerned about what might happen once she realized what it truly meant. Before Sara could talk to the girls any longer, she was almost knocked off balance as something small and approximately thirty pounds hit her. Matthew grinned as he gave his mother a bear hug. Grissom had only just finished dressing the boys, but Matt's tie was already loose and eight-year-old Ira had ditched his jacket.

"Watch it, kiddo," Sara said with a laugh as she ruffled his already wild hair.

"Five down, two to go," Gil said with a smile as he headed back down the hallway. Sara smiled after him and did a visual check of the other kids; they all seemed dressed with book bags in hand. In order to avoid morning confusions, book bags and lunches in the Grissom household were always packed the night before.

"You're going to have such a wonderful day," Sara assured Moira as she pulled her into a hug. "I want to hear all about it when you get home, okay?" The little girl nodded, a small smile appearing on her worried countenance. Next, Sara attempted to say goodbye to Gillian but was again rebuffed by the unhappy child. Just as she finished, much to Ira's disgruntlement, hugging both of her sons Gil returned to the front hall with Zoe and Brennan, their two toddlers. Herding everyone out the front door, Sara settled Zoe and Brennan into her Tahoe while Hannah helped Grissom pack Ira, Matthew, Gillian, and Moira into his SUV. Hannah then got into the passenger seat of her mother's vehicle, leaving her parents in the middle of the driveway to say their goodbyes. Their ritual morning kiss gained groans and 'ewww's from both sides, but that simply made it more fun for them.

As Sara got into the driver's seat, Grissom leaned in Hannah's window and dropped a kiss on her brunette curls before placing a small box into her lap. "That's from your mother and me. I know you're going to have a great day, bug."

"Papa," Hannah said, in mock aggravation. "I'm too old for nicknames."

"I know, I know," he said, his voice laced with sadness as he smiled once more and then went to his own car to drive the younger kids to school. They reached the main highway before Sara realized that her daughter hadn't touched the box.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"Should I?"

"That's what presents are for, silly." Smiling at her mother's overexcited voice, Hannah reached down and took hold of the small box, wondering what it might be. Her parents were always a little strange with gifts, giving the most meaningful things at strange times and then almost forgetting occasions like birthdays and Christmas. If it weren't for Aunt Catherine forcing her mom into the stores after Thanksgiving, Hannah was pretty sure that her family would celebrate the holidays sans presents. The brushed-white gold heart was solid but subtle, a perfect combination of the usual and the unique.

"Mom, it's beautiful," Hannah breathed, "thank you."

"I know you want your independence, but you'll always be our little girl. No matter what happens, we always love you. And we wanted to give you something to wish you luck – high school is a big deal. And hopefully you'll have a better time than your father or I ever did."

"Me too," Hannah said with a laugh. She had heard enough stories from both her parents to know that they had not prospered, socially or emotionally, in the high school arena. "Mom, try not to worry. I have gone to school before."

"I know you'll be great," Sara agreed, her eyes misting over despite her attempts to squash the tears. "Have a great day. I love you."

"Love you too," Hannah said, leaning over to peck her on the cheek. "See you at 3:30." She was out of the Tahoe and disappeared into the front doors before Sara knew what was happening.

"At least some of my babies still need me," Sara said, smiling in the rearview mirror at her two toddlers. She was answered with happy giggling from Zoe. After dropping the two youngest at their preschool, Sara drove to the lab in hopes of finishing a few bits of paperwork before it was time to chauffeur again.

When she arrived, she found her paperwork finished and her desk occupied. "I was wondering when you'd get here."

"I stopped to cry," Sara said stubbornly. Gil laughed at her but opened his arms and caught her in a loving embrace; he knew she wasn't taking change well – especially when I came to their children.

* * *

Three weeks later – from Hannah's Point of View

I was dead. I thought that I might as well go climb into one of the drawers at Doc Robbins' lab, because at that moment, I imagined that my life was over. Then again, I probably didn't need to go to the trouble. Mom looked like she'd be fully willing to participate in ending my life right then. She's a scary lady. Especially when Dad's too busy with his own feelings to keep her calm. If only the floor of Mr. Stevenson's office would have swallowed me up, my misery could have ended quickly. But no, the headmaster was done with my parents; and he was leaving me to them. After all, I'm more their problem than his; especially now that I'm not exactly welcome in his school. Neither one of them said a word, but one look from my dad told me that I should follow.

Mom's boots clicked smartly against the stone path as we walked toward Dad's Tahoe; she was walking briskly, something that was a sure indication of her anger level. I knew it was in the dangerous zone when Dad gave me a sympathetic glance as he opened the back door to let me in. He stopped Mom from getting into the car right away and I saw him talking but he was being too quiet for me to hear anything. Whatever he was saying, it was making Mom soften a bit, she even looked like she was tearing up as he rubbed her back reassuringly and then opened her door. One quick glance at me, and her expression hardened once more to one usually reserved for high-end criminals and Ecklie – one of the mangers at Dad's lab.

By the time we pulled up the long driveway to our house, the silence was so stark that I thought maybe I had inherited Dad's condition and was losing my hearing. The sound of metal against stone as Mom slammed the door open too wide and hit the driveway wall brought me back to reality; and a messy scene.

"Damn it!" Mom didn't usually swear, but she wasn't in her normal frame of mind, so I wasn't exactly surprised.

"Sara," Dad said gently as he walked around to her side of the car. He didn't even look at the door of his Tahoe; he simply closed it and put his arms around mom, slowly leading her toward the house without so much as a second look at me. Unfortunately, matters only got worse in the next few moments. Mom and Dad's cell phones and beepers all starting going off and they automatically grabbed at them. It must have been an emergency call, because they raced back toward the car without so much as a word to one another.

"Get in," Dad ordered. I got back in the car and buckled in, bracing myself for a quick ride. And a quick ride it was; Dad turned on his lights and sirens and sped through the city to the other side and headed out toward the desert. For a minute, I figured that they'd forgotten about me. That was until Mom finally spoke.

"You lock the door and stay in the car when we stop," Mom said firmly. "You don't open it for anyone but your Dad or me. And keep this," she said as she carefully handed me her gun. I hated the thing. I knew how to shoot it. I shoot it quite well, actually. Mom and Dad had taken me to the shooting range for the first time when I was seven; a few days after I'd been the victim of an attempted kidnapping. Since Mom and Dad were in a dangerous and highly visible line of work, we were always going to be at risk. So, security was of the essence when it came to our family.

The house had alarms and monitors and locks galore. Most of the time, I barely noticed them anymore. And the other kids didn't even realize that there was a time when Mom would leave the door unlocked waiting for Dad to get home. We went to a private Catholic school not because our family was extremely religious, but because we had private security that the public schools would never abide. Well, that and we're all really smart – but the security is the non-negotiable thing. Once, I got mad at someone on the playground and started to run away. A policeman picked me up less than two minutes later and Uncle Warrick picked me up from school since Mom and Dad were working on a case. I love Uncle Warrick; but he is not the one you want giving you a lecture on stranger danger.

I didn't mind most of the security measures; I certainly didn't want anything to happen to my family. But the guns were too much; I absolutely hated the thought that Mom and Dad were trained to shoot to kill. And the thought that I might kill something or someone has always been terrifying. Whatever happened must have been big because after Dad pulled the Tahoe onto the edge of the crime scene, Mom opened my door and hugged me. Coming from a woman who had previously looked like she wanted to kill me, I was more than surprised.

"We'll be right back," she whispered before pulling away and closing my door. She stood outside, pointedly waiting for me to lock the door. When I did, she walked back to the trunk to help Dad gather their kits. They had parked far enough away from the crime scene that I couldn't see anything but the vague outlines of people; I recognized Aunt Catherine and Uncle Brass right away. Mom and Dad quickly joined them and I eventually lost interest.

An hour or so after we had arrived, I was deep in thoughts of self-pity and morose when Mom returned and climbed into the driver's seat. "You can climb up here." I did, but carefully avoided talking to my mother for the car ride home.

Not knowing how to respond to her mood swings, I intended to go straight to my room. Unfortunately, she motioned for me to follow her out into the backyard. It was my parents' paradise, littered with every flower and shrub that could possibly be grown in Nevada. And there are more than one might think. She sat on our weathered wooden swing and I timidly perched on a chair across from her, inwardly prepared for yelling. Yelling that never came.


	2. Loving Enough to Let Go

Please let me know what you think and if you'd like to read more. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Two – Loving Enough to Let Go

It would have been easier if she had yelled because then I would have a rationale for being angry with her. She knew me too well for that; yelling would let me off the hook. She spoke, softly. 

"Hannah, what's going on?"

"Mom, I can't do this—" I couldn't tell her. 

"Can't do what? Sweetheart, you can't disappear for hours at a time, skip school to do God-knows-what, and expect not to explain yourself. Tell me what it was. We'll get through this. But I need to know the truth." There it was; plain as vanilla yogurt – which is also actually pretty gross. Anyway, there it was; my mother was asking me for the truth. Mother-to-daughter. I was silent, my chest feeling as though it would burst, as I remained quiet despite her eyes burning holes into my heart.

"Fine. Have it your way." Her tone said it all. She had wanted to be told as a mother; now she would find out as an investigator. She left the yard, walking into the house and beginning to prepare dinner. As the tell-tale sounds reached my ears, the tears finally began to fall. I was disappointing my mother. The woman who meant more to me than anyone in the world was upset because of me. The pain in my chest radiated like heat through a furnace as tears cascaded and the sobs began. I was doubled over, crying for all the secrets that were killing me; for all the pain those secrets might cause my family. 

Despite all the trouble I had caused, irrespective of the lies, regardless of the secrets – she held me. She found me crying in the backyard and sat down in the grass, khaki pants and all, and pulled me into her lap. I appreciated the comforting aroma of lavender and gunpowder; a scent specifically my mother's. When I awoke late that night, I was in my own bed but I knew my parents were still near. 

Sure enough, as my eyes focused in the darkness, I saw that they were snuggled together on my sofa, mom sleeping fitfully in dad's arms. He knew right away that I was awake because his mouth turning up in a small smile, indicating that I shouldn't wake my mother. I was happy for the short reprieve and thankfully rolled over and tried to will myself back to sleep. It didn't work; I was still awake when morning finally came and my parents crept quietly out of my bedroom. I listened to them shuffling around the house, wondering where my brothers and sisters were; the house hadn't been so quiet since the year I'd come to live with my parents. 

I never got out of bed that day; and no one tried to make me. I read my book, not knowing where I would go or what I was supposed to say to my parents. So, I stayed in bed with my book. 

When mom came to my room that night, she carried with her a tray of food. My stomach growled at the sight of it but I tried to refrain from digging in; her eyes were bloodshot and I could see that she had been crying. My mind rebelled against the idea; Sara Grissom never cried. She sat on the edge of my bed and put the food aside, obviously intending to talk.

"One more chance, Hannah. Where were you all that time?" I remained silent; I hated defying my mother but my choices were limited. "Is it drugs?"

"No!"

"Alcohol?

"Of course not."

"A boy?"

"Mama, no," I pleaded, wishing she wouldn't think the worst of me. 

"Hannah, what else are we supposed to think? Your dad wants you tested for drugs and pregnancy." 

"Mama, you know me better than that—"

"I thought I did," she said softly, not looking me in the eye. "But you haven't left me any choice. You have a doctor's appointment in the morning."

"Mama, no, please," I knew I was whining, but I couldn't go through that. 

"It's already done," she said, a dejected air of finality in her voice. "I've already talked to Dr. Meredith. She wants to see you tomorrow afternoon. Before your flight."

"What flight?" As I asked the question, I could feel my world slipping away. I fought to stay in an upright position as light-headedness took over. 

"You dad and I have been talking to Dr. Meredith, Dr. Joe, and Uncle Jim all day. We don't have a choice but to assume the worst, here, sweetheart. I cannot allow myself to think that you've gotten yourself involved with that gang, but there's too much evidence for the scientist in me to ignore it. Unless you give us another explanation, we have to act on the one the police believe." 

"That's blackmail."

"Actually, it's an ultimatum," she said, a small smile gracing her countenance; she was amused! 

"This isn't funny!"

"I know, baby girl," she said, clenching her fingers tightly around one of my pillows, tears finally slipping from her eyes, "it's devastating." 

The next morning came much too quickly. I had spent the evening watching my mother pack several large suitcases; I couldn't believe they were sending me away. I didn't remember this person they kept referring to as Nick and Uncle Nick. I certainly didn't want to go and live with him – especially not hundreds of miles away in the middle-of-nowhere Texas. Mom and I left the house at nine that morning and went to our first stop. Dr. Jo was curt with me, which was a complete surprise. At one point, she actually asked mom to leave the room since she wanted to talk to me alone. 

"You're killing your mother, you know that, don't you?"

"I'm not trying to."

"Scoot down to edge of the table," she said, ignoring my half-hearted answer. 

"I don't see the point in this. I haven't been a virgin since I was three." What was she going to find? She certainly wasn't going to be able to tell my parents whether or not I'd been having sex recently. Those methods of deduction had been stolen from me early in life. 

"It's alright to be mad, Hannah. The things that happened in your life were horrible. But don't make your parents pay; they did everything they could to help you." I grimaced, as Dr. Jo carefully opened the speculum, but remained silent; I knew she was right. The exam went quickly after that; Dr. Jo had never been one to allow unpleasant things to go on longer than necessary. We joined mom in Dr. Jo's office and I was surprised to find my psychiatrist, Dr. Meredith, already there. 

She and mom were deep in discussion and I could tell that mom had been crying again. Dr. Meredith rose as we entered and met us at the door. She looked elegant as usual in a flawless suit and matching scarf. Not one strand of her silky hair ever dared pop out of place. She hugged me and kissed my cheek, just like she normally did when I went in to visit her; something I rarely did anymore. 

"Hannah, please join us. Sara and I were just discussing you."

"What else is new?"

"How do you mean?"

"Everyone is always discussing me."

"Your parents love you and want what's best for you. Surely you can see that."

"I guess." Of course I could; but I was feeling ambushed. 

"Sara has filled me in on the details of what's to happen now. I suppose she's told you as well?" I nodded; of course she had. "How do you feel about your parents' decision?"

"I don't have a choice."

"No," Dr. Meredith answered slowly, "I don't think you do. But you can still have an opinion."

"I think it stinks. The first time I do something they don't like, they send me away."

"Sara, what do you have to say about that?"

"It's not about sending Hannah away. It's about protecting her."

"From what?" The seething tone in my voice startled even me; but especially my mom. It broke my heart when I saw the hurt expression cross through her eyes. 

"I've never been so afraid," she continued, only slightly rattled, "as the night Jim called to tell us you'd been found with those _people_." The last word was almost spat, as though the remembrance of those particular people was so vile that she couldn't label them. 

"I told you it was an accident. Bad timing."

"How am I supposed to believe that? You also said you were going to school every day."

"You have to trust me," I pleaded; it stung that my mother, one of my closest allies, didn't believe my word.

"I want to. But I don't know how to right now." My mom and I were both sobbing. 

"That's not fair," I wept, clutching one of Dr. Jo's throw pillows. Dr. Meredith let us go for a while before breaking in. 

"Hannah," she asked delicately, "do you really believe that isn't fair of your mother? Should she still trust you indefinitely?" I shook my head; my throat so swelled from holding back tears that it strangled any attempt to reply. Dr. Meredith left to soon; I wanted to beg her to stay – to listen – to help us. But my voice never left my head, I never even said goodbye. 

My mom, dad, and I were sitting at the dinner table; granted, no one was touching the dinner Aunt Catherine had sent over. She and Uncle Greg had apparently split the siblings in half and were keeping them for the time being. I had not had so much "quality" time with my parents since Gillian was born. "So, I'm supposed to go and live with strangers. That'll help." I wasn't trying to be terse; everything just seemed to come that way. 

"You're enrolled in three classes at Texas A&M," Dad said sternly, not leaving an inch of wiggle room, "Nick's wife Winifred is a physics professor there. You'll go to classes when she goes to work and then you'll go back home when she does. The credits should round out your year – you'll be promoted to tenth grade."

"You'll meet with the woman Dr. Meredith recommended three times a week," Mom added faintly. I turned to look at her, my eyes I'm sure were filled with panic. She knew how I felt about doctors, especially new ones. I'd been seeing Dr. Meredith and Dr. Jo for so long that they seemed like part of the family; I couldn't go to someone new. She knew that; she was the same way. "Dr. Meredith thinks it's a good idea," mom said, apparently trying to allay my fears.

"What about what I think?"

"None of this is up for negotiation," Dad said unsympathetically, his eyes trained on mom. I knew he might have been more flexible if he hadn't been afraid of upsetting mom. Apparently they had already gone rounds over these decisions; he wasn't going to allow her to worry through them again. "You'll be volunteering a few hours a week at a nearby church. With the youth group."

"So the plan is to work me to death?"

"The _plan_ is to help you stay out of trouble," Dad corrected gruffly. "Make sure you have everything together. We're leaving in half an hour." I stalked away from the dinner table, slamming every door I found between the kitchen and my bedroom. My bedroom; it was still decorated like I was a little girl – but it was the one place I always felt safe. It looked alien and horrific, with everything packed into suitcases. 


End file.
